


Lion’s Tooth

by DontLookAtMePls



Category: The Terror (TV 2018)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Everyone Lives/Nobody Dies, I guess., M/M, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, fitzjames is a dandelion poof of a leo, ft. croziers big dick, oh gd im posting this on the bus please nobody look over my shoulder
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 13:09:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 684
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20046556
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DontLookAtMePls/pseuds/DontLookAtMePls
Summary: James gifts Francis springtime repose.





	Lion’s Tooth

James bit his tongue—hard—to keep from keening.

It was dreadfully late, but it was the only time he could catch the captain; Francis, having overcome drink, was gentler now, and twice as busy. With the thaw of the ice pack finally arriving in earnest, there was a great amount of direction the men needed in order to free the ships from their frozen confines. Francis worked dawn to dusk, the light of arctic spring and an end to this perilous toil giving the captain renewed valor. The men could see it—but what they couldn’t see was how Francis’ daily fatigue was quelled. 

James felt white-hot. 

The sun would be rising in only a few more hours, and the work would begin again, but for now, for now—Francis was allowed peace, and bliss, and renewal for now. The terrors had subsided for both ships, but in those stretches of dire, timeless panic, Francis had begun to seek out the company of his second. A year ago, James, who had been grappling with disdain and frustration and desire and amusement and pride towards his captain, would have never thought in a thousand years that his silent prayers for closeness could be answered. He could remember the first day that Francis found him, held him, kneaded his skin, and in those moments they became cut of the same cloth, and each moment not in one another’s arms became sore. 

James panted, hips still bucking.

The walls of Erebus were only so thin, and the captain dared a groan—James felt the sound spiral up his spine and bloom like dandelions in his skull. The later the night grew, the more exhausted they would be in the morning, but the two men, busy with each other’s sticky, obsessed, aching delight, could not be roused or fettered by the thought of it. There was an untameable joy in the hope for survival ahead, and a shining passion that grew from the fear of the end being behind them. Something about these moments in between home and the open sea made them desparately craven alone and positively insurmountable together.

James, slick with sweat, buried his face in the crook of Francis’ neck.

Francis pressed on his back, gripping the second’s leg with his other hand, rocking heavily into the man. He gave another groan before purring tender words into James’ ear; the way he reacted, Francis knew he was close. They both were.

James murmured lush secrets and praise over his captain’s attention, full to the brim with his prick, feeling wilder by the second. He wanted to bite and howl, like some sort of beast, or maybe he wanted to settle and preen and glow, like an angel—James’ poor body could not decide, for it was too busy enraptured in that weighty length tearing him in two. And, like lightning, which he had not seen for months and months, but rather felt in these nights, the choice was made for him. James spent himself with a buck, two, and a drumming heart, pleasure rushing around underneath his skin and deep in his belly. 

He rode the bliss while Francis watched, starry-eyed, his pace frantic now—erratic—James grasped him as though he might fall off a glacier into some craggy darkness below. Francis pounded deep, his prick swollen and slick, the feeling of James being the one he was buried to the hilt in driving him mad. A spark of flame boiled his blood, and he came with a gasp, his mind full of comets and his skin clammy against James’. His seed was hot still, and his cock twitched as he eased out of the poor, used second. 

The two collapsed in a heap, both aware of how labored their breaths were. James stirred first, rolling off of Francis to wipe away the mess he had made on their bellies. He apologized quietly, and Francis chuckled, lifting a hand to brush flyaway strands of hair away from James’ face. The commander blushed, grinning, before kissing his captain with a warmth like the sun.

**Author's Note:**

> i havent written in years. james james james james james james ja


End file.
